


Fall

by ServantOfMischief



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Crowley is Raphael in this story, Fallen Angel, Not Fluff, Pain, Sad Ending, The Fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 13:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServantOfMischief/pseuds/ServantOfMischief
Summary: Raphael loves the stars, he loves the universe and the galaxies and all of God's creations. He love God, with his entire being(Not connected to any other fic I have in the Good Omens fandom)I do not consent to my work being reposted, or used in any unofficial apps like Fanfic Pocket Archive Library (Unofficial) or the like!





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> THIS is what FUCKING happens when I talk with pinkpiggy93
> 
> Piggy: *taunts me with current project*
> 
> Me: Don't push me! I'll write something angsty and sad! 
> 
> Piggy; Do it.
> 
> Me: Wait... What? No! 
> 
> Piggy: You want it, go for it, let temptation drive you, Julie
> 
> Me: No! i'm going to write nice, fluffy stuff because they DESERVE a good, happy ending! Just watch me! *Proceeds to write THIS* 
> 
> Me: .... THIS IS YOUR FAULT!
> 
> Piggy; HOW IS THIS MY FAULT?!
> 
> Me: How is this NOT your fault?!
> 
> I do not consent to my work being reposted, or used in any unofficial apps like Fanfic Pocket Archive Library (Unofficial) or the like!

Raphael loves the stars, he loves the universe and the galaxies, he loves all of God’s creation. But truly, the stars he loves the most, because he helped make them. Perhaps he is edging dangerously close to pride, but how can he not? He did it by Her command, and he has been praised by his work, _She_ praised him for his work. She had been proud of him, and it makes him want to do more, create more. But then, one day, She said: Enough.

And Raphael stops. It hurts, because it is his purpose to create for Her, and his hands itch and itch to create but he holds himself back. Because She has told him he is done. So perhaps She has another purpose for him? Perhaps She will bring him a new task in which he could make her proud of him again? Lucifer laughs at him, though there’s a bitter sound and it makes Raphael distance himself from the eldest archangel because it sounds so _wrong_. Gabriel shakes his head, saying that Raphael is trying too hard, and that it is wrong and Raphael feels like he doesn’t belong around the angel soon to be known as the Messenger either.

And soon Raphael realizes that he has distanced himself from everyone. He stands at the edge of it all, and watches, watches, as unrest rises. Lucifer is plotting something, and so many are flocking to his side. Gabriel, Michael and Uriel are rallying the others, but Raphael only watches, watches the tension rise, watch how the world he knew is crumbling, piece by beautiful piece, and then finally, it happens.

The archangel is horrified at what he is witnessing, a great divide between all Her children. He sees angels fighting and shouting and screaming and _killing each other._ He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but when he sees angels lying in a pool of golden blood, reaching out for anyone to help them, he cannot stand idly by anymore. He rushes forward, falling to his knees beside the wounded angels, and does his very best to heal them. God doesn’t want this, he’s sure of it. She loves them, and they love her. Whatever Lucifer is doing, for whatever reason he is fighting against the others, it must be for Her sake, however misguided the reason must be, but She cannot want this, surely? And he raises his head, calls and calls on her.

“Mother! Mother, what is happening?” But She doesn’t answer, and he feels cold, like Her warmth has left him, and he wonders why She lets it happen? She can stop it, can’t She? A hand grabs a hold of him, and he tries to lurch away, only to be yanked back. It’s Lucifer who’s gotten a hold of him, and the dark, cold look in his eyes makes the other archangel shiver in fear. Raphael doesn’t want to be near Lucifer now, he’s _scared _of him, scared of what he wants, what he’s doing, how he _feels_, and again the other archangel tries to pull himself free, only to get pulled back yet again.

“Heal me.” Lucifer demands, and then Raphael realizes that the older archangel is wounded, badly so. Who could have done that? But he doesn’t let himself wonder too much, because while his healing powers beg him to heal his brother, to bring him warmth and comfort and pleasant feels, all other parts of him is screaming at him to run, to yank himself free and fly far, far away from Lucifer, because there is something _wrong_ with Lucifer. It’s not familiar and warm and good, but cold, hard and something Raphael has never felt before, but it does not appeal to him, and the part of him that wants to escape wins out over his gentle, loving and healing nature. And suddenly he’s fighting, pushing Lucifer back with enough force to free himself and have the archangel stumble away. It doesn’t last long. Raphael is unable to get away, because despite being injured, Lucifer is still quick, still strong. Again Raphael is grabbed, but this time something is happening. Lucifer screams, a horrible and hollow sound, tightens his hold on Raphael to the point it _hurts_, and Raphael watches as Lucifer’s wings catch fire, how the ground beneath him suddenly gives way, and he falls.

Dragging Raphael with him.

Raphael sees it as he falls, the remaining angels in Heaven raising their hands and weapons in the air, cheering and laughing, relieved and happy that it is over, but he doesn’t understand why. There are angel’s falling, and he’s one of them, and he doesn’t understand _why_. What did he do? Why is he falling? It hurts, and hurts and he can’t think, can’t speak, can only scream as he feels like a part of him is yanked out of him, staying behind in Heaven while he continues to fall, fall, fall and all that his being screams is: Why, Mother, Why? It feels like he’s falling for eternity, and he reaches out for the stars he helped create, trying to find some sort of comfort as he is wracked with pain, but it is almost like they are shying away from him, _disgusted _with him, and his eyes widen as tears escape him. No, no, no, Mother, how did I displease you, he finally manages to think.

_‘What made me deserve this?’_

And then he is burning, drowning in fire, sinking and sinking and his wings are heavy and stiff and he can’t move. Liquid fire forces its way past his lips, down his throat, and he feels warm again but not the good kind of warm, as he had when he created stars for God and cradled in Her love. This is the kind of warmth that tears and tears and burns at everything you are, turning any remains of what you are into nothing but ashes. And when the Fallen finally manages to pull himself out of the boiling sulphur he’s been steadily sinking into, to break the surface and breathe in air he doesn’t need, he looks upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone who can save him, even as disfigured and burned and twisted as he has become, yet sees and hears nothing, no one.

“Mother, Mother, what happened?” He calls out weakly, throat dry and full of soot. “Why am I here?” He whimpers, feels his wings stiff and painful and twitching at his back. And as he calls again and again, as other Fallen begin to pull themselves out of the sulphur, voice so quiet and weak he can barely hear himself, Raphael comes to the horrible conclusion.

“Mother, I love you, please, I love you.” But God no longer loves him.


End file.
